


The Grisiau

by Witch_of_Hot_Cocoa



Category: Original Work
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Lovecraftian, Multi, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 17:20:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Witch_of_Hot_Cocoa/pseuds/Witch_of_Hot_Cocoa
Summary: Not everything is as it seems. It is the core truth of Freya's life to this point.With no other options, Freya leaves behind her home and family in the human realm and is accepted into the Grisiau, the most prestigious institution dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge in all the world. She isn't really going there to learn anything - she's going because it issafe. The Grisiau is run by an old friend that offers her safety and security, and the new friends she makes take it upon themselves to try and make her life as comfortable as possible.Freya is forced to abandon her plans of quiet living when war begins to brew amongst the fae courts. The crawling chaos of Freya's past comes to find her, bringing with it war-hungry kings, scheming courtiers, and too many love-sick royal fae to handle.





	The Grisiau

Freya folded the last of her shirts and packed it neatly into her final suitcase. With that, all of her belongings that would be going with her were packed. She had enough clothes set aside for the next two days, but those would be washed after wearing and packed up at night.

She ran through her mental checklist again, sitting in her bed to survey her room. Clothes, shoes, essential toiletries, makeup. No linens or towels necessary. Her decorations, jewelry, personal treasures; her books had their own entire box. Her tools of magic were neatly packed in a separate box as well, carefully packaged with some of her less-nice clothes and packing foam to keep them from breaking. 

The most important thing she'd packed were the photos, delicately packaged with more care than anything else. She had two albums stuffed with them and an extra shoebox with hundreds more, and she'd enchanted them all to hell and back to prevent scratches or staining. Her pictures would be all she had left to see her family with. They were not packed in the suitcases or boxes. No, those would stay with Freya at all times, in her backpack. 

Freya ran through the list three times. All that was missing were a few trinkets she wanted from the farm, like Paloma's old reins, a nail from the foundation of the barn, a cut of wire from the front gates to the property - to her home.

Freya swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She'd have plenty of time to cry later, when there were no more memories to be made with her family. Her brother and his family would be here any minute, and she wanted to cherish every moment her last two days with them.

She snatched up the polaroid camera on her barren dresser and left her room. The upstairs hall of her house was the same as it always had been, lined with paintings and pictures of their childhood. Freya passed them by, going down the narrow stairs. 

Her mother was sitting on the floor of the wide, open living room, a goat laying across her lap and a one-winged kookaburra nestled in the cushions next to her head. Faith was watching the news, leaning against the couch and looking all the world at peace with herself. She didn't notice Freya come down the stairs.

Faith was one of the most beautiful women in the world, in Freya's opinion. Her family had lived on this desert oasis for centuries, toiling away at the land. Therefore, the colors of the desert colored Faith. Her skin was the same dark red of the desert sands, her hair black as the dirt beneath it, peppered with streaks of grey. She had crow's feet and heavy smile lines, but they only made her look more welcoming. 

Freya had inherited her mother's coloring, and - she hoped - her kindness. She lifted the camera and snapped a photo of the moment. The flash started Faith and the goat, who stirred briefly before returning to his nap.

"I thought you weren't going to let them into the house anymore?" Freya teased, taking the picture when it rolled out and waved it dry. 

Faith smiled. "Zuleika is the exception to the rule." She said, reaching and stroking the bird's beak. "And this bugger caught a cold. He'll be fine, but he's one of the ones we had to hand rear, so he's being clingy because he doesn't feel well." She stroked the goat's neck; he heaved a big sigh. Freya laughed and made for the kitchen.

"Dorian should be here any minute." Faith called over her shoulder. She turned off the news; more talk about the tension over the Unseelie ambassadors. 

"Think we can convince him to come ride with us later?" Freya asked, pouring herself a glass of lemonade. "We can hook up the donkey to the cart and load the kids in it."

"We'll see. Tamara has been eager to go out, so he’ll probably give in." Faith said. The goat grumbled as she stood, but Faith chided him to stand when he flopped back down. "I'll be back - going to put these two up." The goat had to be fussed at to get to stand. She scooped the bird into her arm and took them out through the back door.

Freya examined the nearly developed photo. A good snapshot of her mother and a few of the animals. She set it on the overpass where a few pictures from last night's supper lingered and smoothed her hands down her sides. They'd been raising animals on the farm for ages, long since before Faith's great grandmother. The continent didn't have a lot of native wildlife left, having been devastated by the Great War centuries ago. The kookaburra was one of few, and had lost her wing to a military training incident. Usually, they went to one of the two zoos in the mortal realm, but they'd been worried about the established populations of birds picking on Zuleika due to her wing. So Faith, a zoo associate thanks to her status as a farm owner and an environmental ecologist herself, volunteered to take the bird in.

They had a few other animals saved from the wild due to injuries; a few reptiles, two other species of birds, a wombat, and a flying fox bat. Farm hands did most of the work on the property, but Faith handled the rescued creatures herself. She just had a way with them, to calm them and earn their trust. Freya had been helping her since she was a small child, working on the farm her whole life. 

And now, she was leaving it for good. 

The deadbolt on the front door clicked. The children came running in a moment later, squealing as they raced from the front hall and into the living room. “Grandma!” They sang. “We’re here! Grandma!” 

“She’s gone out to the farm for a moment. She’ll be back.” Freya said, setting the camera down to avoid it coming to harm. She came out of the kitchen with her arms wide; the twins came at her shrieking, slamming into her hard enough to knock her on her rear. She couldn't help but laugh.

“Jordan, Jameson!” Their mother snapped, appearing in the living room. The very new, very small baby was sound asleep in her carseat, not even stirring once as Tamara set the carrier down. “Go help your father unload the bags.” 

They scrambled off Freya and dashed for the door, leaving her laughing in their wake. She hopped to her feet. “Did you inject them with sugar before coming?” She teased, going and wrapping Tamara in a hug. 

Her sister-in-law gave an exasperated sound, hugging her close. “I think they got their hands on the snacks before we left. They were too quiet in the car; I’ll bet we find wrappers back there.” Tamara said. She’d lost most of the weight from her pregnancy already, steadily returning to the tone of a military fitness instructor.

Freya poked Tamara’s chest, where one breast was all but hanging out of her shirt. “I see you’re still juiced to hell and back.” She teased. Tamara grumbled something unsavory under her breath and fixed her shirt. “Good thing, too. The kid’s hungrier than the twins ever were.” She said, jutting her chin towards the carseat. The baby was still asleep, but Freya sat on her knees in front of her anyways and cooed. “My niece is so cute!” She squealed, gently stroking the baby’s small, fuzzy head. 

The noise of the twins returned as they clamored through the front door once more, each carrying backpacks and their sleeping bags under their arms. “Freya, can we sleep in the barn with you tonight?” Jameson was the taller of the two twins; that and the curls in his dark hair were the only things that distinguished him from his twin Jordan. 

“We’ll see.” Freya said sweetly, standing straight. Dorian came in a moment after them, hauling a duffel bag and a box under his arm. Dorian had the lighter tones and facial features of their father, but he, Freya, and Faith all had the same dark grey eyes. He looked as unhappy as he always did.

“Mom’s putting up one of the rescues.” Freya said. She waited until he set the bags down by the door to go and hug him. They kissed cheeks in greeting and Freya took one of the bags, helping them move them to the guest room. The twins usually slept in the office, under a blanket fort made out of Faith's big mahogany desk. 

Freya wanted to sleep in the barn with them. Dorian didn't like it, but she had a feeling he wouldn't argue with her about it later. The twins put their bags in the office anyways, and the family convened in the living room.

Faith came in through the back door. "My little bugs!" She sang, spotting the twins. They shrieked as they went for her, crying "Grandma! Grandma!" Faith did not fall when they tackled her, managing to heave them both up in her arms with a laugh. "You've gotten bigger in such a short amount of time!" Faith teased. "If you keep growing like this, you'll be bigger than the barn!"

Dorian heaved a great sigh. "They'll eat me out of house and home before that." He grumbled, but there was a small smile on his face. 

"Well, we've got plenty to eat here." Faith set the boys down and made a beeline for the baby, who miraculously woke when Grandma was in the vicinity. Faith scooped the little girl into her arms and stroked her back, cooing to her. "My little Janiva. She's getting big, too! Do you have giant’s blood in you, Tamara?" Faith teased. 

Tamara laughed. "Maybe! I'm the shortest of my siblings and I'm still a hundred and seventy eight centimeters!" She sat next to Dorian on the couch and put a hand on his knee. 

The twins pulled their toys out and sat on the floor across from the couch. Faith chatted with Tamara and Dorian, walking lazy circles as she cradled the calm baby. 

Freya's chest tightened. She got her camera and went to the twins. "Smile!" She sang. They gave wide, toothy grins, holding up their toy dinosaurs. She snapped a quick shot and showed them when it was developed. "Look at you two! Cutest nephews in the world." She said, adding it to the stack of photos on the counter.

“Are you going to bring that on the ride? You should bring a bag with a solid bottom so the pictures don’t get damaged.” Faith noted, passing the baby to Tamara.

“We’re going riding?!” The boys exclaimed. 

Dorian looked displeased with the notion; he’d never really like riding, although he was very good at it. Tamara, however, looked absolutely elated. “Of course we are! Daddy’s going to drive the cart for you while mommy gets a chance to ride.” She said excitedly. “So you two have to be good boys and help daddy with your sister.” 

“We will!” And then they took off, giggling about changing into their riding clothes. Tamara and Faith began to discuss dinner plans, Dorian pitching in to say it would be best to eat before riding, as the twins get crabby without dinner. 

Freya sat in their company, and enjoyed the normalcy of their conversation and their presence. Tamara roped her into helping with dinner, while Dorian prepped a bottle for the baby and tamed the boys. Freya managed to keep her eyes dry as she worked, but the lump in her chest was heavy.

* * *

The horses were excited to see the family; they hadn’t been ridden for a few days, and they liked going out to the ponds in the far pastures. Paloma was especially nosy as Freya saddled her, mouthing at her hair and rubbing her nose against her side every chance she got. 

Freya helped the kids set up the donkey and secure her to the cart, a two-wheeled wagon that had three short barriers to keep things from rolling off. It was usually used for hauling heavy supplies for the farm, but they kept a few thick blankets and pillows in the tack room of the barn to pad it down for rides like this. 

Tamara was excited to ride this time, having been unable to due to her pregnancy for the past year, so Dorian was resigned to cart duty with the three children. Faith got everyone big hats to shade out the sun. The boys laughed and raved about looking like real farmers in them. They loaded the cart with water and plenty of snacks, and they set out. 

Paloma was one of the biggest horses they had, aside from Tamara’s horse, a gentle giant of a draft horse named Maroon. Unlike Maroon, Palona was  _ not _ a gentle ride. She was stubborn and liked to be in charge, always trying to scout ahead and fussing at the rest of the horses to keep up. They used Paloma to help steer the herd most days, so her bossy personality was a plus for the job. But it also meant only one or two of the farm hands could handle riding her, aside from Freya or Faith themselves.

She would miss Paloma with all her heart. 

The ride was peaceful and beautiful. They reached the ponds in an hour, finding the farm hands with the herd of sheep getting water before moving back to the main pastures. The farm hands were happy to see the twins, waving at them and promising to play with them tomorrow. Paloma got irritated when she wasn’t allowed to lead the herd back herself, but settled for being allowed to splash around in the shallow ponds. 

Everyone dismounted and sat at the edge of the largest pond on the blankets. They shared fruits, snacks, and Freya snapped picture after picture of the horses and her family. Maroon especially loved having his photo taken, posing everytime Freya called for his attention. Paloma was in several amazing photos when her attention was drawn to the baby. Dorian had tried to keep her away, but Faith and Tamara scolded him, taking the baby from him so Paloma could see her. Freya held the horse’s reins for Dorian’s peace of mind while she gently nosed the fragile baby. 

“She was just as curious about the boys.” Freya reminded him. “And she used to give them kisses all the time.” 

“Yes, I remember the dirt stains.” Dorian sighed. Janiva reached one tiny hand and lightly smacked Paloma’s nose a few times. Paloma snorted, and the baby gave a shrill laugh at the gust in her face. Paloma backed up and lightly shook her head, satisfied, and went back to nosing at Freya.

“She approves.” Freya announced. Everyone but Dorian cheered, although he had a small smile on his face. 

The ride back was slower and gentle. The twins fell asleep in the wagon, so it was quiet, too. Freya let go of the reins, hooking them on the horn of the saddle, and let Paloma lead the way at a lazy pace, though still far ahead of everyone else. The other horses were content to match the pace of the donkey cart. 

Freya snapped pictures of the expanse of the property. The pastures on their farm were wide, open spaces, dotted with strategically planted trees to offer shade for the relaxing sheep. They rolled through shallow hills, and in the distance, the desert was barely visible, a haze of red on the darkening horizon. 

Last week, Freya spent three days and nights out in the desert. She packed a tent, enough food and water into a backpack and walked alone on an old trail. She laid under the stairs and counted every one, took pictures of every cactus flower she could find, visited all the old burrows and nests she’d found as a child. She took a jar and collected some of the reddest sand she could find. The place where Freya would be traveling to was far, far away from  _ any _ desert. 

She knew it was for the best. There were many things about this desert that, when combined with Freya’s presence, were not safe. Not for her young and gentle family.

Paloma huffed at her when she watched the horizon for too long. “Sorry, girl.” Freya murmured, putting the camera back in her bag and stroking Paloma’s neck. “You’ll take care of everyone for me, won’t you?” 

Paloma huffed again. Freya’s eyes watered, but she managed to contain her tears. Butterflies came floating past her and landed in Paloma’s mane. The horse didn’t bother shaking them off, even when a monarch landed on her nose. She was all too familiar with their presence, and had long since accepted them. 

"I know it's not the same, but you should let mom take care of you from time to time." Freya suggested. "And help teach the kids their manners. And - I know I'm asking a lot with this one, but take care of Dorian for me."

Paloma snorted in response. "I know, I know." Freya giggled, patting her neck. "But you of all people know he's nicer than he pretends to be. And he's more hurt by this than he's willing to admit. Mom and Tamara are one thing, but I don't trust anyone more than I trust you, Paloma."

The horse was silent, walking on. Her ears stayed facing Freya, the only sign she was listening. But Freya knew this horse better than anyone else. She knew that the touch of magic that lived in every wild animal was strong in Paloma. It was probably one small part of why she chose Freya to bond with, out of everyone else that she'd met in her life. The only little girl with magic powers for miles and therefore, the only person that could really understand Paloma when she tried to communicate. 

Freya cupped a hand against her chest. A butterfly landed in her palm and dissolved into a shower of tiny lights. She blew them towards Paloma's ears. 

The horse sighed in defeat. "I'm sorry." Freya whispered to her. "But you know this is what I have to do."

The horse lowered her head a fraction. She slowed to a stop and turned back to the family. Freya took the moment to snap a shot of them, her mother and sister-in-law riding atop tall horses, her brother with the baby strapped to his chest as he drove the cart. Tamara was the only one that smiled for the picture. 

* * *

Dorian and Tamara relented in letting the twins sleep in the barn with Freya.

They laid down the cart blankets in the aisle between the horse stalls and rolled the sleeping bags on top. They slept between Paloma and Maroon, at the edge of the barn, right next to the windows. Freya threw some hay bales under the blankets to give them something to lean against, so they could watch the stars come out.

Dorian didn't like Freya using her magic in front of the twins, but she gave them a show when night fell. Glowing butterflies filled the barn while stick figures made of light danced a grand waltz across the blankets. Shadows crashed in waves against the edge of sleeping bags, like the ocean crashed against the shore, and dolphins made of light leapt through the black waves. At Jameson's request, a great white shark came spiraling out of the black, rocketing into the air with a seal in its mouth. Even the horses were entertained, leaning their heads over their stall doors to watch.

"Daddy says your magic is trouble." Jordan said softly, as they settled in for the night. Only a few of the glowing butterflies remained, resting sporadically on the sleeping bags to cast a small light across them. The boys still needed nightlights.

"Well, magic is magic. It can be trouble if you use it for trouble, and when I was younger, I did." Freya admitted, wedged between the two of them. They held her hands tight against their chubby cheeks. 

"Daddy says you're never coming back." Jameson whispered. "When you leave, the fairies are going to keep you forever and we're never going to see you again."

Freya closed her eyes. Sometimes, she hated her brother for how much  _ he _ hated magic and the fae. He himself didn't understand why she was leaving, so how could she expect him to explain things properly to his sons?

"I am going to the fae lands, but I'm going because I want to." Freya explained softly. "I got into a very important school, and I'm going to be able to learn about so many things."

"Like college? Like daddy?" Jordan asked.

"But daddy came back from college." Jameson tacked on.

Freya sighed. "It's just like college, yes - but it's also different. It is where I will be going to learn so I can help protect everyone better." She said, choosing her words carefully. "I can't come back because learning there takes a long, long time. Most students take at least fifty years to finish their initial degree."

"Whoa! That's how old grandma is!" Jordan cried. Paloma made an irritated noise in her stall. "Sorry." He whispered.

"It is. It's a long time for a human being." Freya smiled at the ceiling. The butterflies took on a warmer, more purple color. "I won't be coming back, but it's ok. Because I'll be doing the most important thing; my best."

The twins were silent. She could feel the explanation wasn't satisfying in the slightest, and she had a feeling they knew she was partially lying. They'd always had good intuition about that.

She sighed. A pair of butterflies landed on the boys' heads. They giggled, but didn't wave them off. "It's alright to be sad." Freya murmured, and her voice took on a gentle tone. "It's alright to not understand. You will understand when you're older; I think you two are much smarter than other people, so I'm going to share a secret with you. I'm going because it's the only way I can protect everyone."

"Protect everyone from what, aunt Freya?" Jordan whispered. The purple butterfly cast a warm glow on his face, the dim light showing his eyes were fluttering heavily with sleep.

"Many things.” Freya whispered. The butterflies dissolved into nothing, and the boys were fast asleep. Freya settled into her sleeping bag, closing her eyes. They were cuter when they slept, and she would miss them with all her heart. She listened to the sounds of their steady breathing, tears welling in her eyes. 

* * *

Two days later, Freya sat alone in the back of a car, packed with her belongings. 

She’d put her foot down and refused to allow her family to take her to the airport. It was a good three hours away from the farm, and Freya was expecting some unpleasant conditions when she arrived. So she paid for a car to come and get her from the airport and said her final goodbyes at home. 

It had been hard not to cry. Everyone else was, even Dorian. Only her mother had somehow remained dry-eyed. Faith walked with Freya to the far end of the property, a wagon stacked with Freya’s belongings dragging behind them. “You remember to brush your teeth every morning and every night.” Faith instructed as they walked. “Don’t forget that even though the climate is different in the old lands, if you stay in the sun for too long you can still get sunburn.”

“I know, mama.” Freya rolled her eyes, smiling. It sounded like a mother sending her child off to school for the first day. 

“Fae men are no different from human men, so you make sure they know you’re not going to be anyone’s doormat. Don’t let them look down on you just because you grew up on a farm; you know how city kids can be.” Faith continued. “And if you’re going to fight anyone, please remember not to hit them first.” 

“Jeez, mom. What kind of advice is that?” Freya laughed. 

They reached the end of the long dirt driveway. The car was already waiting, having just arrived. The driver came out and helped the ladies load all of Freya’s belongings into the trunk.

Faith pulled Freya aside. The property was marked off by wire fencing; Faith pulled clippers from her back pocket and clipped about a foot of wire, putting it in Freya’s hand. “I know you wanted a piece.” Faith said. “You got a nail from the barn, right? And you got Paloma’s old reins?” 

“Yes.” Freya hadn’t told her mother about the things she’d wanted to collect, but she wasn’t surprised she knew. Faith smiled and wrapped her into a hug. 

“I know how hard this decision was for you.” Faith whispered. “And I know you are doing this for the sake of everyone else.”

Freya’s throat went dry. “Last time - I know you changed. I always knew your trip had been much longer for you than it has been for us. You came back different.” Faith continued, stroking Freya’s hair. “I understand you are leaving now because of that."

“Mom, I-” Freya choked off, tears streaming down her cheeks. Faith shushed her, pulling away to straighten Freya’s hair and dress. “No matter what, I am always proud of you. And I love you with all my heart." She said, holding Freya’s face in her hands. Then she kissed her forehead and walked away, without looking back even once.

It was a good thing the drive was three hours. Freya took that time to quietly cry, the driver polite enough not to say anything and play the radio at just the right volume to offer some semblance of privacy. By the time they reached the airport, she’d calmed down and brushed some pigmented powder around her eyes to obscure the redness. 

She packed all her things onto a trolly and tightened the straps of her backpack, entering the airport. She stopped briefly and frowned at the check in desks, before pushing through to security. She didn't have a boarding pass or ticket for her flight, but the soldiers who manned the security checkpoint  _ should _ have been informed of her arrival today, and of the fact that she wasn't to be checked.

She pushed her belongings to the side line, where usually only those in wheelchairs or those opting out of the machine scans would line up. "Ma'am, you need to check these into baggage." The soldier at the front podium stopped her, looking mildly annoyed. 

"No, I'm not flying via any mortal airline. My name is Freya Prasad." She replied, already tired. “You’ve been told to expect me.”

The soldier frowned; obviously, he didn't understand what she meant. "One moment please." He said politely, and walked back through the security checkpoint. A captain sat at a desk just behind the checkpoint, overseeing the security for this section. Freya leaned on her cart and waited, watching the soldier speak to his superior; the captain, in turn, jumped to his feet, looking remarkably calm despite the sudden movement. They walked with frightening speed back over to her. The people waiting in the regular line were watching now, whispering amongst themselves. 

The Captain saluted her. "Miss Prasad. Captain Fuller." He said politely. "We will escort you to the gate. Private Dylan can take care of the cart for you." He gestured to the soldier from the podium. 

Freya nodded, stepping back from the trolly. Captain Fuller gestured for her to follow, and Private Dylan fell into step behind them. 

"I wasn't supposed to say anything, but the Prime Minister is at the gate with the press." Fuller said, as they boarded the train to go to the terminal no one dared to get on with them, so they had the train to themselves. "I've been told that the Director of Intelligence is with her."

Freya outwardly groaned. "I thought I wouldn't have to see that man ever again." She grumbled. Director Aaron Charlemagne had visited Freya's house once a week ever since the government was notified of her situation. Originally, she’d not said anything to anyone but her family, but the Grisiau had requested permission to send a plane to the airport and retrieve her, and an aide from the Director's office had called the house not twelve hours later. 

They’d at first tried to deny her departure, but the Grisiau had made it very clear that the mortal government had no right to do so. Then Aaron came and asked her to  _ spy _ on the courts. Humans were not allowed in the fae territories as per the Accords, just as fae were forbidden from mortal territories. There were exceptions, of course, for ambassadors and individuals with explicit permission. 

But the courts rarely granted such permission; some didn't at all. The Spring court was one such court, where human slaves were still kept. The Grisiau stood without the boundaries of the Springtime Lands, and the mortal intelligence agencies wanted Freya to send any information she got from that court to them.

There was, of course, the small problem in that Freya would never set foot in Spring court territory. And she'd explained that about a hundred times over, but darned if the government wasn't persistent in getting what it wanted,  _ especially  _ Director Charlemagne. 

"Are you really going to the Grisiau as a student?" Private Dylan spoke up. His captain gave him a sharp look; he ducked his head.

"Yes." Freya answered anyways, as the train slowed to a stop. "Although it won't be much different from going to one of the Universities. Just seasoned with a little magic." She smiled at the private and followed the Captain off the train.

Captain Fuller led her through the terminal. There were plenty of people waiting for flights at other gates - and they knew exactly who she was. Some people snapped pictures on their cellphones, others whispered and stared. 

At the gate at the far end of the terminal, a line of soldiers kept the civilians away from the cluster of seats before it, dotted in front of a barrier of stanchions. The press were roped off to one section of seats, where a podium had been set up in front of them. True to Fuller's word, the Prime Minister herself stood on a makeshift podium before the crowd of reporters, giving some sort of speech in human-fae relations. The Director of Intelligence stood to the side, just behind the Prime Minister. As soon as he realized Freya was in the airport, he turned his sharp gaze on her.

The soldiers on the line greeted Captain Fuller with salutes. One pulled open the clip of the nylon ropes on the stanchions and let her pass. The Prime Minister changed what she was saying when Freya entered, announcing her arrival before stepping down and walking up to greet her personally.

Private Dylan pushed her belongings over to sit beside the gate doors. When he returned, he and Captain Fuller saluted Freya together. "Good luck, ma'am." Fuller said gently, and they turned and left.

Prime Minister Nguyen stepped into Freya's path before she’d even fully turned around. “It’s an honor to meet you in person, Miss Prasad.” She said, smiling warmly at Freya. 

Freya wished she could share the sentiment. “Likewise.” She lied anyways, managing to hide her discomfort behind a polite smile. The last thing Freya wanted to do before she left the human realm for good was insult the Prime Minister. 

Prime Minister Nguyen had held her office for almost twelve years now, strongly supported by the people in most of the mortal realm. The continent especially seemed to love her. She had a strong stance on interactions with the fae, but had still managed to open trade with the Summer, Autumn, and Unseelie courts. She'd served as the ambassador to the Summer lands prior to becoming Prime Minister, so she knew how to negotiate with fae. 

Too bad for her she wouldn't be able to negotiate with Freya. 

"It is truly an honor, for a human being to be able to attend an institution as prestigious as the Grisiau." The Prime Minister said, proudly. Freya forced herself not to grimace, gripping her backpack straps; she was glad she'd refused to let her family see her off at the airport.

Prime Minister Nguyen steered her towards the press. "Would I trouble you to answer a few questions?" She asked. "I know you're probably nervous about leaving, and I don't want to pressure you. You won’t disappoint me - I don’t want to strain you. It would just be so nice to have a statement to settle the media."

Oh, she was good at this. The Prime Minister was widely known for her weaponized grandma-guilt. Even her own children had joked about it, saying they felt bad for anyone who tried to keep her from getting her way. Buffed by her own sheer force of will, the charismatic woman was seldom denied. And those who did deny her looked like  _ garbage _ for doing so.

"I'll take a few questions." Freya said softly. "But I won't answer them if they are too personal, or about my family."

"Absolutely! They've been told to behave professionally, I assure you." The Prime Minister smiled warmly at her, and smoothed Freya's hair behind her shoulders and adjusted the way her sweater dress fell on her shoulders. At least, Freya thought, she’d decided to put on a nice outfit and a little makeup. The photos of her today would be floating around in the media for months, no doubt, until something new happened.

The Prime Minister guided her to the podium and told the press she would be taking questions. Freya set her backpack down at her feet, outright ignoring the Director as he stepped ever closer. Hands shot into the air, flashes of cameras flaring like fireworks, but the reporters were surprisingly subdued as they waited for her to pick someone.

Freya pointed to a woman in a cream suit. "Miss Prasad, what research will you be participating in at the Grisiau?" She asked, pen ready against her notepad. 

"Well, there are a variety of subjects I plan to look into." Freya answered calmly. "I haven't quite decided on a true topic yet, but I have plenty of time to choose."

More hands went up. She picked a man in a blue suit. "There are rumors circulating that you took a trip a few years ago and ended up in debt to a fae at the Grisiau. Is this at all the reason for your acceptance into the Grisiau?" He asked.

Freya raised her brows. "I hadn't heard that rumor." She admitted. "No, it's not true. I got in like a regular student. I applied and was accepted."

There were more questions similar to the last, reporters asking about rumors that were sometimes believable, but usually completely outrageous. No one brought up her family, blessedly. Many asked about how strong her magic was - but she firmly denied answers to those questions.

"I get that normal people don't have magic, but it doesn't mean that asking that sort of thing is OK." Freya finally snapped, on the third woman to ask. "It would be like asking every person you met if they could run a marathon or not. Just to be clear, while my magic increased the odds of my acceptance, anyone can apply to the Grisiau, magic or not. What they value above all else is intelligence, just like every mortal University does."

They all scribbled that note down with a fury. Freya was just about ready to beg the smiling Prime Minister to let her be done, when a soldier came through the gate. "The plane has arrived." He announced.

The media's attention immediately spun from Freya to the windows, as the camera fought for a good angle of the tarmac. Freya picked up her backpack, more than a little relieved. 

True to be told, a sleek jet came and landed on the runway. It navigated the maze of roads in the airfield and rolled up the gate. Even the civilians snapped pictures and made excited noises. It was an expensive plane, a private jet, but nothing new. The only thing really different about it was the emblem on its side, marking it as property of the Grisiau. A comet moth hovering over an open book, displayed in front of a rising sun.

Freya took a deep breath. Everyone watched as the plane opened and the stairs were set at the door. One by one, a group of six soldiers stepped off the plan and lined up, waiting for the last one. They were all identical in uniform, varying only in height. 

The Stratiri guard was an elite, highly mysterious group. They served the Grisiau and only the Grisiau, despite the fae courts constantly making requests for a handful to serve in their special forces. The Stratiri answered to no one but the Headmaster of the Grisiau and the Lady of the Grisiau. They were sworn to defend the Grisiau and all of its name, including students.

Including Freya, now.

The uniform was easily identified, but not as flashy or fancy as some of the other things fae military groups wore. Plain black boots and black pants, a pair of black gloves. The overcoats were dark blue, stopping at their knees; they were most plain, save for the asymmetrical patterns of gold on the right shoulder and the left cuff. The coats were pinned closed with gold buttons, opened at the chests to reveal gold breastplates embellished with the Grisiau's emblem.

Two of the Stratiri peeled off, to speak with the approaching airport staff. The other four marched seamlessly to the terminal. They entered the gate without so much as stopping for the human soldiers outside. Suddenly they were marching out of the gate, entering the terminal in a tight formation.

They stopped just before the gates. The front right soldier stepped forward, going to the Prime Minister and bowing at the waist. Prime Minister Nguyen offered a small bow in return. "Greetings, Prime Minister Nguyen." The soldier's voice was distinctly feminine. "We come on behalf of Headmaster of the Grisiau to escort the Lady Freya Prasad to the Grisiau." 

"A full detail - what an honor. I thought it was custom for only a single Stratiri to escort new students?" Director Charlemegne stepped forward, smiling as he spoke. Freya forced herself not to roll her eyes. 

"Responding to your question, due to the distance required and the nature of the Lady's mortality, the Stratiri were granted permission to bring a full detail." The woman replied curtly. She turned her head towards Freya and pivoted on her heels to bow to her. Not quite dismissing the Director of Intelligence by outright ignoring him. "My Lady. We shall accompany you to the Grisiau. Are you prepared to leave?" She asked.

Freya opened her mouth to answer, but hesitated.  _ No, _ she wanted to say. Too bad it didn’t matter what she wanted.

"Yes." Freya answered softly, shouldering her backpack. "My belongings are there." She gestured to the trolly just behind the gate information desk. One of the other Stratiri pivoted and took control of the trolly, and a second followed them back through the gate and out to the plane. The remaining two Stratiri both bowed to the Prime Minister. "Then we shall take our leave. Good day, Prime Minister Nguyen." The woman Stratiri said. The other one stepped forward and offered Freya their arm; she gently took it, and they walked for the gate. 

The hot, fresh, summer air gave Freya more feelings of anxiety than she was expecting. The Grisiau was in the old lands; nowhere near as hot or dry as her homeland on the continent. Once she stepped on that plane, the hot air of the land once called Australia would be left to her memories. She tensed, but walked with steady feet to the jet. 

The Stratiri loaded her belongings into the cargo bay of the plane. The one on her arm guided her to the stairs and followed her up onto the plane. Inside the narrow space, another Stratiri bowed by the cockpit. A man wearing the Stratiri coat leaned in the doorway; he wore regular slacks and a blouse beneath it, the coat opened and the sleeves rolled up. He wasn't wearing the helmet, revealing a handsome, rugged face with closely trimmed dark hair and even darker eyes, his skin only a few shades lighter than Freya's. He looked to be in his late thirties, early forties, with a closely trimmed beard. That was mildly surprising, considering the fae preferred appearances of ageless beauty, and a certain degree of cleanliness that usually did not include facial hair. 

"Welcome aboard." The Stratiri said. "This is Master Hawthorne, a Master of the Grisiau. He is serving as our co-pilot for this trip." The Stratiri on the plane explained, marking him as the pilot.

"You can also consider me the nuclear deterrent." Hawthorne said proudly, in a brassy rumble of a voice. "For no court shall dare to harm this little student while I am near."

Freya gave him a sort of sidelong, incredulous look that said she really didn't believe him. "Did you come up with that on your own?" She asked, thoroughly unimpressed.

Hawthorne's shock was visible. She turned her attention to the Stratiri pilot. "Working with someone so prideful can be tiring. Thank you for your diligence." She said, patting him on the shoulder. She could feel the tremble of laughter. "My Lady is too caring." He said. There was a soft snicker behind her.

Maybe it was rude of her, but Freya wasn’t fond of stroking egos or letting peacocks for men, fae or mortal, use her to stroke their  _ own _ egos. So she spun on her heels and turned her back on Master Hawthorne, walking into the luxurious cabin space. The jet was one of those fancy ones, with chairs and couches, and private rooms on the back of the plane. 

She claimed a seat at one of the chairs with a table in front of it, setting her backpack under the seat. The pilot ushered Hawthorne, who still looked to be in utter shock, back into the cockpit. The Stratiri that had escorted Freya followed and bowed to her once she was seated. "There is a bedroom available in the rear of the plane, should you wish to rest during the journey. Across from it is the kitchen, which is open to you whenever you desire." He explained, in a soft voice. "The Stratiri shall occupy the main cabin and the business room. We are at your disposal, but would ask you to refrain from disturbing the pilots for the duration of the flight."

"Of course." Freya said. "Thank you - you're a very polite bunch." She noted. 

The Stratiri nodded. "We have already been informed of this Lady's exceptional circumstances." He said gently. "So I would like to reiterate; the Stratiri are completely at your disposal."

He bowed and stepped away, returning to the front of the plane and disappearing around the divider that shielded the cockpit and door from the main cabin. Freya sank into the seat, closing the window next to her sharply. She didn't have the stomach to watch as they left her home behind. So instead she pulled out one of the books she'd packed in her backpack and started it from the beginning. Twelves hours was a long time to sit and do nothing, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this for a while and wanted to try and throw it up somewhere. The summary is garbage, of course, because I only have about one half of the story done. The more comfortable I become with chapters, the more I will add here. There won't be any sort of regular update schedule lol


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